


Only Young and Naive Still

by sixlettrsodapop



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Children, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Developing Relationship, M/M, Parenthood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 18:54:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1123198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixlettrsodapop/pseuds/sixlettrsodapop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felix and Wendy meet in a sandbox.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only Young and Naive Still

**Author's Note:**

> Peter is 24 & Henry is 20; Felix and Wendy are 4
> 
> Title is from The Naked and Famous' "Young Blood"

Felix and Wendy meet in a sandbox.

Wendy’s playing with a plastic dinosaur, showing it to Henry with babbled words of how it was awesome while the older boy sat in the grass, textbook open on his lap, when a boy with blonde curls is set down across from her. She pauses in her babbles and looks at the boy and the boy stares back, wide, blue eyes and clenched fists in his dad’s jeans and Wendy holds out her dinosaur to him. The boy takes it and smiles and his dad untangles the boy’s hands from his jeans before he sits down and pushes him forward with a gentle hand and a whisper.

“I’m Felix,” The boy says and Wendy smiles, teeth showing and she claps.

“I’m Wendy.”

~

Every Thursday, Peter takes Felix to the park for a play date with Wendy; it’s the only time Felix socializes with a kid his age and he’s not going to break that trend even if he is potentially dying. He’s gotten the letters and emails from Felix’s teacher, the “he’s a sweet kid, but he doesn’t talk” notes, and he can’t help that, but he can make sure Felix plays with Wendy for an hour a week and talks to someone other than him and the babysitter’s cat.

Felix is standing at the edge of his bed, blue eyes bright and he’s smiling and Peter groans, sniffs, wrinkles his nose before he rolls out. The babysitter, a young girl named Ruby, had been nice enough to drop Felix off at school and pick him up, bring him home for Peter so he could sleep for a few hours, but that’s where her job had ended and Felix tugs on his pajamas, pouting.

“I know, kid. I’m going.”

Peter sets Felix down on the bed and the little boy kicks his feet, watching Peter as he dresses and makes himself look halfway presentable. He pulls a beanie on and rubs a hand across his face before picking Felix up; Felix rests his head on Peter’s shoulder as they walk to the living room where Felix’s coat is still draped across the armchair where it’d been left earlier. Felix wiggles out of Peter’s arms, sliding to the floor and tugging his coat on, letting Peter button it before he waits at the door, eyes boring into Peter as the boy walks around the apartment, picking up everything he’d need. Felix huffs, hands on his hips and Peter winces because he knows that pose, does it a lot himself when Felix is just not listening and pinches the bridge of his nose as he scoops Felix up.

The park isn’t a far walk from their apartment and by the time they get there, Felix is humming softly, fingers twirling Peter’s hair around his fingers and Peter is itching for a cigarette. Henry and Wendy are already there, Wendy alone in the sandbox with a shovel, steadfastly digging what looks like a moat around herself and Henry’s rubbing his shin on the nearest bench. Felix doesn’t wait until Peter sets him down, squirms around until he drops and he gets up, brushes the dirt from his pants before walking to the sandbox, Peter trailing behind with the start of a smile. Felix turns and gives him an annoyed look, as annoyed as a four-year-old can look and Peter puts his hands in the air in surrender, nose wrinkling as he holds back a sneeze.

Felix climbs into the sandbox and Peter walks over to Henry, sliding easily next to the boy and pulling a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his sweatpants. Henry gives him a wounded look, still rubbing his shin, and Peter raises an eyebrow as he lights up. He holds the cigarette between his teeth as he puts the pack away and takes a drag, blowing the smoke away from Henry.

“What happened to you?” He asks; Henry’s stopped rubbing his leg and now he’s frowning at Peter.

“Wendy hit me with her shovel when I tried to help her.”

Peter bites his lip to stop the laugh, but it escapes and he coughs, folding over as they’re pulled from deep in his chest. Henry rubs his back, digs his fingers into the nape of Peter’s neck until the boy stops coughing and then takes Peter’s cigarette, crushing it under the heel of his boot.

“No,” Peter whines, draws the ‘o’ out, but Henry pulls the pack from Peter’s pocket and puts it into his own bag, then moving the bag out of Peter’s reach; Peter pouts, something he’ll adamantly deny later, and Henry rubs his back.

“You know you have a fever and shouldn’t be outside. Or smoking.” Henry says, adding the last bit when Peter makes a noise like he’s going to protest and Peter shrugs, waving a hand towards where Felix and Wendy are digging.

“Felix needs his weekly Wendy-time or there’s a riot.”

Henry pulls his hand away and knocks their shoulders together gently; Peter knocks back and yawns, covering his mouth with his hand and stretching.

“You’re a good daddy, Peter.”

~

Peter and Felix have a schedule; every day, Felix wakes Peter up when the sun comes up and Peter makes him breakfast, Felix watching from the counter while Peter makes him whatever he can come up with (Felix is easily predictable after a year of choosing his own breakfast; he always has eggs and bacon except on Thursday, when he wants chocolate chip pancakes.) Then Felix goes to preschool and Peter does whatever he can think of for the four hours until he has to pick Felix up. Then it’s the babysitter and work and a rush of homedinnerbathstorybedtime until Felix is asleep and Peter’s close to sleeping while standing up.

He forces himself to stay up; it’s a Thursday night and it’d been chilly earlier, Felix upset about having to wear a coat while daddy only wore a sweater and Peter rubs his temples, eyes aching. Felix is asleep now, curled up with his hair a tangled mess that’ll cause Peter another headache in the morning, but he lies on the sofa and pulls the coffee table close, laptop open on it. He leans over the edge of the sofa, balances on a forearm on the table, and uses his left hand to check his email, groaning when he has one from Felix’s teacher.

This isn’t unusual and he knows it’s probably another complaint about Felix’s silence and refusal to participate in group activities, so he opens it and scans it. The same phrases jump out, “refusal to cooperate in group activities” and “won’t speak in class” and Peter has tried talking to Felix and explaining that he needs to speak, he can’t be silent forever and Felix just stares at him until Peter gives up. He tried telling Felix’s teacher to pair him with Wendy; Felix talks to her, Felix loves Wendy, but the teacher had slanted him with a disbelieving look and a, “Mr. Pan, your son needs to learn to speak to everyone. Not just one little girl.”

Peter rubs at his eyes and closes out the browser, turning the laptop off and glancing towards the kitchen. He should go clean, knows he hasn’t done it in days because he’s been fighting various colds since September and sleeps whenever he can, but it’s not like the dishes won’t still be there tomorrow. He flips the TV on and watches nothing, flipping through the channels until he lands on the channel he started on; he falls asleep to Full House and wakes up to tiny fingers tugging at his ear. Peter groans when Felix’s elbow goes into his chest and his knee into Peter’s stomach then he opens his eyes to Felix staring at him, hair a tangled halo.

“It’s sleepover weekend, daddy,” he whispers and Peter nods, rubbing his eyes and Felix smiles, wide before he scurries off, leaving with another elbow into Peter’s side.

He follows Felix down the hall, yawning and stretching, rolling his neck to dislodge the crick that’s settled in from a night of sleeping on the sofa and leans against Felix’s bedroom doorway. Felix is sitting in the middle of his floor, phone against his ear and listening very seriously to whatever the person on the other line is saying, nodding every once in a while. Peter smiles and walks over to him, crouching down and taking the phone away, ignoring Felix’s indignant squawk and patting his head to shush him.

“Wendy, darling, is Henry awake?” He asks and the little girl pauses in her speech.

“No?”

“Go wake him up and give him the phone.”

Peter listens to the girl sigh before he hears her walking down the hall, the creak of Henry’s door as she pushes it open and then a muffled yelp from the boy in question.

“’Lo?” Henry’s sleep-rough, voice raspy, and Peter shudders slightly.

“Wendy’s stolen your phone and called here again,” He says and Henry makes a noise that could be a groan or it could be him falling off the bed. “Also it’s sleepover weekend, according to Felix.”

He gives the boy a look and Felix nods, clapping once and Peter smiles; on the phone, Henry’s mumbling, still half-asleep most likely and Peter crosses his eyes at Felix and sticks his tongue out at the phone before hanging up. Felix laughs, quiet as usual and Peter kisses the crown of his head.

“Eggs and bacon?” He mumbles into Felix’s hair and the boy nods. “Okay.”

~

Peter’s in the middle of a nap when his phone rings from somewhere on the floor and he scrambles for it, snatching it up and answering with a mumbled hello.

“Mr. Pan?”

Peter’s instantly awake, sitting up in his bed, mind racing with the possibilities of what could have happened to Felix; his chest is tight and breath stuck in his throat and the woman on the phone is talking calmly, rambling really about Felix getting into a fight and could he please come down to the school for a meeting with his teacher? He swallows and nods before he realizes he’s _still on the phone_ and scrubs a hand over his face.

“Yeah, no problem. I’ll be there soon.”

He takes the quickest shower he can manage, drying off fast enough that his jeans stick to his thighs when he’s pulling them on and he scrubs his hair dry, running his fingers through it instead of brushing it. He grabs a jumper on his way through the house from the back of a dining chair and pulls it on, followed by a beanie and his boots at the front door, checking his pockets for everything before he walks out of the apartment. Peter has a cigarette on the way down the stairs, fingers shaking ever so slightly when he gets outside and throws it down, crushing it under his heel.

The car is freezing when he gets in, no surprise, and it’s still freezing when he gets to the school. He checks himself over one more time, smooths down his jumper, and walks to the front door, pressing the button that rings the office and waits, the wind whipping around him and making his still damp hair stand on end. The woman on the intercom sounds bored and careless when she lets him in and it’s her that he stands in front of when waiting to go see Ms. Margaret. A gust of wind comes in and he shivers, turning to see Henry, striped scarf wrapped tight around him and peacoat buttoned up fully.

“A little underdressed, aren’t you, Peter?” Henry asks after dealing with the secretary and Peter glances down at his jumper before shrugging; it’s a little thin, knitted, but it’s warm and baggy.

“I’m warm enough. Forgot my coat, was sleeping when I got the call,” He says and his chest rattles when he takes a breath; Henry’s arm slips around his waist, hand on his lower back and Peter smiles. “Why are you here anyway?”

Henry’s face falls and his eyebrows furrow and Peter pets at his hair; it works to calm Felix down and that’s all he has to go on for comfort.

“Wendy’s been fighting? I don’t really know. I thought she was hurt when I got the call and just rushed down here.” Henry’s speaking fast, nervous and worried and the hand he has on Peter’s back is twisting into his jumper, knotting the fabric and Peter gets it.

Henry’s so young, only 20 and Wendy’s not even his, his little sister that he took in instead of dumping her in a foster home, not an irresponsible kid like Peter was when Felix was born, and Peter pulls him close, Henry’s head ending up under his chin and the boy’s hands clutching at his back. He’s breathing fast and Peter whispers nonsense into his hair, just like he does when Felix gets upset, and lets Henry calm down.

“I just don’t know why she’d be fighting or what I did to show her that fighting is okay.” He says into Peter’s chest and Peter swallows hard, heart fluttering and picking up speed.

Someone clears their throat and Henry pulls back; Peter barely keeps his whine in his throat at the loss of warmth and of Henry. The secretary is outright staring at them, not even bothering to try to act like she’s working and Peter bares his teeth at her before he turns to face Ms. Margaret. The dark-haired lady looks up at him, small smile firmly in place and he smiles back before she turns to walk down the hall; he pushes Henry gently to start him walking and nods when the boy looks at him.

Ms. Margaret’s room is bright and open, drawings from the kids plastered on the walls and Henry stops Peter from sitting down with a hand on his shoulder. He shrugs and puts his hands in his back pockets, waiting for the woman to start speaking.

“Felix and Wendy were caught fighting today with other students. Now, we got them before anything happened, but it’s still unacceptable behavior and one of our top rules is no fighting.” She says and Henry is stiff beside him, absolutely stricken and Peter sighs. “I know I pulled you from your day, but I would like for you to talk to your children and please, feel free to talk to me if you need any help.”

She aims this last part at Henry, her eyes full of sympathy, and Henry nods, murmurs out an, “of course” before he flees to the hallway. Peter stays and locks eyes with Ms. Margaret, waiting until she looks away before he follows Henry. The boy isn’t far, sitting in an armchair outside the office and he crouches in front of him, hands on Henry’s knees; he waits until Henry’s breathing has returned to normal before he tilts the boy’s face up with his fingers and Henry’s eyes are glassy, as though he’s holding back tears, and Peter’s stomach drops with how much he wants to kiss this boy until he can’t think of anything except Peter, this boy who gave his son his only friend, but he stops himself, drawing back.

“How about I drop Wendy off with Felix at the babysitter’s and get you after class? We can talk or something, whatever you want.” Peter says and his fingers are rubbing the top of Henry’s thigh, dipping towards the inseam of his jeans and he pulls back completely, standing up and drawing his hands through his hair.

Henry seems speechless, mouth dropped open the slightest and Peter spins, waves over his shoulder before disappearing down the hall as fast as he can, cursing himself under his breath. He spots Felix and Wendy in the crowd of children outside the school, twin blond curls sticking out from their caps and he walks over, smiling when Felix automatically wraps himself around his shins. He rests his hand on Felix’s head and the boy whines, pushing Peter’s hand away and fixing his hat.

“Ready to go to the sitter’s?” He asks and Felix shrugs, looking back at where Wendy is standing on her toes and looking for Henry. “Wendy’s coming with us today.

Felix squints at him for a moment before he walks back to Wendy and they start whispering, glancing at him every few seconds. Peter crosses his arms over his chest and shifts his weight to his other foot, cocking a hip out and the kids walk back to him, hand in hand. The sitter is within walking distance and Peter lets Felix lead, walking behind them and nudging his son in the right direction when needed. Ruby meets them outside her building and coos over Wendy, making the little girl giggle and cling to Felix’s hand harder as they walk inside.

Peter has a cigarette on his way back to the car and he’s doing good, smoking less because Henry slants him a disappointed look every time he lights up and all he has to do is distract himself for an hour until Henry gets out of class. Then they can talk about what was definitely an inappropriate amount of touching earlier and Peter drives home, fingers tapping on the steering wheel along to whatever’s on the radio. He collects the mail on his way up, it’s all bills and junk like usual, a letter from Felix’s grandma that joins the trash along with the junk mail and shoulders his way into the apartment when the door jams.

The apartment is trashed, of course, because it always is, Felix’s toys strewn through the living room and down the hall, dishes from the last three days stacked on the kitchen counter and Peter drops the bills on the sofa, shedding his jumper. It joins a pillow that suspiciously looks like Peter’s on the living room floor and Peter walks to the kitchen, rolling his shoulders to fix his t-shirt. It takes him 45 minutes to finish the dishes and by the time he’s done, his back aches and his phone is ringing. He dries his hands off on a stray shirt on the kitchen table before answering Henry’s call.

“Hello?” Peter’s never understood that; he supposes it’s polite, but it seems pointless too and Henry’s just breathing for a moment.

“Thought you were going to get me?” He asks and Peter’s brain whirs to a stop before he realizes he should have left ten minutes ago to get Henry from his university’s campus.

“Damn. I’m sorry.” Peter holds the phone between his shoulder and ear while he grabs his keys from the hook and a jumper off the table; it’s questionably clean, but it’ll do for now and he puts ‘ask Henry how he doesn’t lose his head and stay so clean’ on his mental checklist. (He’s been in Henry’s apartment; it’s nearly spotless, but that could be because Henry cleans before his company arrives. Peter’s not that good.)

The other boy is laughing at him when Peter hangs up and he almost trips down the stairs, rubbing his arms as he trots across the parking lot because this jumper is thinner than the other one, threadbare nearly and he climbs in the car, cranking the heat when he gets it running. Henry’s in front of the English building when Peter pulls into the parking lot, bundled up in his coat and scarf, clutching the strap of his bag.

“Does your heat not work?” is the first thing Henry asks after he gets in the car and Peter huffs, pulling out carefully and navigating back onto the road.

“It works. It’s just… temperamental. There’s a reason Felix wears like 4 layers a day.”

Henry makes a noise in his throat and unwinds his scarf, waiting until Peter’s stopped at a light before he wraps it around his neck, laughing at Peter’s squawk and pout.

“’m not a child,” He says and Henry nods.

“Of course you’re not.”

They finish the drive in silence and Henry hums along to the radio; Peter’s door sticks when he tries to get out and by the time he gets up the stairs, Henry’s already inside the apartment. His coat’s on the armchair by the door, his bag with it and Peter can hear him riffling through the kitchen. Peter leans against the table, hip cocked, and crosses his arms across his chest, watching Henry pull a box of mac and cheese from the cabinet he didn’t even know existed.

“Did you hide that there?” He asks and Henry looks at him, squints as though he’s trying to figure out if Peter is being serious.

“No?” He offers before he sets about making it, removing a toy car from the stovetop and handing it to Peter.

Peter toys with the car, turning it over and over in his hands until he sets it on the table with a click and Henry turns to look at him. He’s worried, eyebrows furrowed and Peter steps closer, almost close enough to touch and he _wants_ to touch, but shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Are you okay?” Henry asks and he rests a hand on Peter’s waist, fingers curving delicately and pressing into his back and Peter bites his lip. “Peter?”

“I’m fine. Sorry for earlier in the school. I know we touch a lot, but, you know.” He pulls a hand from his pocket and waves it in a semblance of an explanation and Henry nods, as though he understands.

“Okay? Do you want some mac and cheese?”

Peter shakes his head, stomach in knots because he lied to Henry, to the beautiful boy who’s carved out a space in Peter’s life like no one has before, not after they met Felix at least and he shakes his head, scooping up the clothes spread across the table and walking to his room to throw them in the hamper. He presses his forehead into the wall for a moment, takes a deep breath that rattles in his chest, before walking back to the kitchen and Henry’s gone.

Peter finds him in the living room, stretched out on the sofa and when Peter sits down, Henry throws his legs over Peter’s lap. He hums when Peter wraps a hand around one ankle and Peter bites his lip to hide his smile. Henry’s flipped the TV to some crime show and Peter tries to focus on it instead of how he can feel Henry’s heartbeat through his skin where Peter’s thumb is resting. After Henry finishes his food, he sets the bowl on the floor and Peter wants to protest, but he can see a glass four feet away, so it dies in his throat and then Henry’s shifting, pulling Peter down to lie between him and the back of the sofa and Peter squeaks.

“Yes?” He asks and Peter’s heart is in his throat; he can count Henry’s freckles and Henry’s nearly going cross-eyed trying to look at him.

“Nothing. You looked uncomfortable.” Henry’s arm is around his shoulders, Peter’s right shoulder digging into Henry’s upper arm and it has to hurt, but Henry doesn’t move, keeps looking at Peter before he goes back to watching TV.

Slowly, Peter relaxes once he’s sure he’s not going to pop a boner just from being this close to Henry; they’ve cuddled before, it’s not unusual, but now it’s worse and Peter shifts. Henry makes a disgruntled noise and noses into Peter’s hair; he mumbles something Peter can’t make out fully, catching the words ‘nap’ and ‘me’, but it’s enough for him to know what Henry means.

“You can nap alone,” He says and Henry holds onto him when Peter tries to get up; the boy’s gotten stronger and he struggles for a moment before lying back.

Henry makes a happy noise into his hair and Peter settles down, curling to get comfortable and presses his face into the crook of Henry’s neck, breathing in the scent of cinnamon and oranges.

It’s the best nap Peter’s had in months, since his last ill-fated boyfriend, and he forgot how much easier it is to sleep with someone pressed against you; he blinks, trying to figure out what woke him before he hears the knocks on the door and climbs over Henry carefully, trying not to wake the other boy up. He opens the door and Ruby’s there, Felix and Wendy beaming up at him and he crouches down, gives each of them a hug. They let go and walk around him into the apartment, shedding bags and coats as soon as they can and he hears Henry’s groan when they find him on the sofa.

“How much do I owe you?” He asks and there’s a shriek from further into the apartment that sounds like Wendy and another groan from Henry; Felix may be a bad influence and Peter edges out into the hall, pulling the door partially closed behind him.

Ruby is grinning, hands on her hips and Peter tries to smile too, is sure it comes out more like a grimace.

“They were so quiet at my place. It’s $60 for the both of them,” She says and Peter pulls out his wallet, counts out the money and hands it over just as there’s a thump from inside the apartment.

He closes his eyes for a moment and takes a breath before walking into the apartment and Henry’s on the floor, Felix and Wendy kneeling on either side of him; he has an arm across his eyes and Wendy is giggling, Felix is grinning, but it falls when he sees Peter standing across the room.

“Henry, are you okay?” He asks and Henry makes a noise.

“Rudely awoken twice today by Wendy, but I’m okay.” He says and Peter nods, giving Felix a thumbs up and the boy pokes at Henry’s side, making the older boy laugh and twitch.

Peter climbs over the back of the sofa and pulls the laptop over to him from the table, ordering dinner while the kids tickle Henry until he’s breathless and gasping, flushed and eyes glassy. Peter helps, pointing out Henry’s most ticklish areas for the kids to get until Henry flails an arm out, grabbing Peter’s ankle and dragging him onto the floor, digging fingers into Peter’s ribs and causing him to twitch and laugh. Felix turns his eyes on Peter and he gasps and shakes his head, getting out a string of no’s before both kids are on him, poking at him with tiny fingers until he’s wriggling on the ground, laughing.

Henry disentangles himself at some point and answers the door, pays for the pizza they’re having for dinner, and whistles when he gets to the kitchen. It’s an automatic signal to Wendy; she pauses in her tickling and scampers to the kitchen. Peter can hear her bare feet tapping around and Felix soon joins her, leaving Peter on the floor to catch his breath. Henry appears above him, head upside down and he smiles, pulling Peter up with one hand; he walks Peter to the kitchen with a hand on his back and Peter contains the urge to spin around and grab Henry, pull him until they’re pressed together hip to hip.

The kids inhale their dinner and soon, there are greasy fingerprints added to the mess on Peter’s table and walls because they’d ran before he could catch them, distracted by defending his food from Henry’s fingers and he should be upset, but he already knew he’d have to deep clean the apartment eventually. Henry grins and Peter rolls his eyes, waving a hand at the other boy and he grabs it, lacing their fingers together; Peter pauses before wrenching his hand away, staring at their intertwined fingers and Henry bites his lip, fingers not laced with Peter’s dancing on the table. The air seems to disappear from around them and it’s heavy, silent as they catch eyes and Peter’s heart is in his throat.

“Daddy!”

Peter stands up so fast he knocks his hip into the table and he winces, gives Henry an apologetic look as he walks down the hall to find Felix in the bathroom standing on his toes and unable to reach the sink faucet. Wendy is standing behind him, pizza sauce on her face and hands behind her back. Peter wipes her face off and kisses her nose before helping both of them wash their hands, washing his own when they’re done and staring at him.

“How about you two go pick a movie to watch before bed?”

Felix nods and grabs Wendy’s hand and they walk from the bathroom; Peter stares at himself in the mirror for a moment before brushing his teeth and walking to his bedroom. He changes quickly and walks to the living room; the kids are settled on the floor, a blanket wrapped around their shoulders and Henry’s lying on the sofa, pajama pants low on his hips and he must feel Peter staring at him because he looks up and beckons the older boy over.

Peter settles into the corner of the sofa and Henry makes a frustrated noise, tugging Peter over to him and settling them on their sides with his chest to Peter’s back. Henry’s arm is thrown over him, his hand over Peter’s heart and he’s breathing into Peter’s hair, focused on the screen where Lilo is doing something involving a pickle jar and spoons. Peter drifts off, comfortable with Henry exuding heat like a furnace behind him.

He wakes up to Henry gone and rubs at his eyes; the TV is rolling the credits from the movie and Peter yawns. Henry reappears and crouches in front of him, smiling.

“Have a nice nap?”

Henry threads his hand in Peter’s hair and Peter pushes into the motion, moan caught in his throat and Henry laughs quietly. Peter curls up, taking a hand under his cheek and looks at Henry, the sweep of his lashes over his cheeks and the way the moonlight lights his dark hair up, casting a silvery shadow over it and he wants, deep in the pit of his belly. He wants to wake up to Henry and his laugh, the long lines of him when he stretches, and the way he loves without worrying about what will happen.

Henry smiles and Peter reaches a hand out, trails his fingers along the bridge of his nose, the tops of his cheeks and Henry leans forward before Peter can pull away, pressing a soft, quick kiss to the corner of Peter’s mouth.

“If you wanted all of that, all you had to do was ask, Peter.” He says and oh. Peter said all of that out loud and the flush spreads from his cheeks down to his neck, turning his face into the sofa cushion and groaning softly. “Now. Do you want to go to bed?”

~

Peter wakes up with his head on Henry’s bare chest, the sheets around his waist, and two pairs of eyes staring at him from the edge of the bed. He turns his face into Henry’s chest and moans, biting at the collarbone he can reach, and the other boy shudders, draws his nails up Peter’s back. Wendy and Felix don’t move and Peter can feel their eyes boring into him; Henry stretches and Peter hopes with everything he has that Henry doesn’t roll out from the sheets.

“Morning,” Henry murmurs and he’s sleep-rough, ruffles Peter’s hair before he spots the two pairs of eyes at the side of the bed. “Hello.”

“Breakfast,” Felix says and Wendy nods; Henry nods and Peter feels the muscles flex from where he’s still hiding in Henry’s chest, halfway into his neck at this point.

The kids walk out of the room and Peter can hear them talking, probably about them and he flushes, face heating up while Henry laughs softly and rolls them over, kissing Peter close-lipped before he gets up and pulls his pants on. Peter groans and pushes his face into the pillow, rolling onto his front so he’s not straining his neck. Henry massages the back of his neck and kisses the back of his head before Peter hears him leave the room.

When Peter makes it to the kitchen, pants and jumper on because there were bruises across his hips and chest he’d rather not explain to the kids or have their little fingers poking at, Felix is happily dipping his bacon into the yolk of his egg, Wendy is kicking her feet and eating cereal, half of it ending up in her lap, and there’s an eggshell on the kitchen floor, but Henry’s at the stove, humming and Peter presses himself against Henry’s back, hooking his chin over his shoulder and Henry turns to press a kiss to Peter’s cheek. Peter wraps his arms around Henry’s waist and noses into his neck, smiling when the other boy barely bites down a whimper.

“So, did I make a good call?” Henry asks and there’s the slightest tremble in his voice and Peter nudges his nose behind Henry’s ear, blows out a breath on Henry's earlobe, and the other boy shivers.

“You made a very good call.”


End file.
